A Red Light Turns On
by ladymer
Summary: Katara is woman without a country, trapped in Japan during the peak of the Pacific War, and ends up finding comfort in the arms of the enemy. AU/Zutara/Sexual Situations


**A Red Light Turns On**

Warning: Mild (or graphic depending on your interpretation - you can just skip it -) sexual references

* * *

><p>A red light turns on, the music dies, and she glances to her left at the man behind the thick glass for her cue. He gives her a thumbs up and she faces the mic hanging from an extension of the stand next to the desk. She slides the typed script, on top of the table at which she sits at, towards her slowly with one hand and begins her act.<p>

" So that's all enemies! I hope you enjoyed that little piece of home!" Her voice is cheerful, laced with a slick mocking tone. " Don't work yourself to death out there as you want to be by those radios tomorrow night at the same time! Until next time, ., this is your favorite enemy signing out! Be good! "

The red light cuts off, the music plays again, and she covers her face in her hands. She's ashamed, she's angry, and she's lost all hope.

The officer who sits in the booth watches from his seated position behind the radio engineer. A lit cigarette hangs loosely from his fingers and he takes a long drag. He's emotionless, sharp eyes coldly watching a petite woman wallow in her betrayal to her countrymen.

" Tell her she can leave." He orders in his native tongue, exhaling the smoke as he spoke. The engineer nods and gives her the signal. The woman looks gets up and leaves the booth without even looking back at the window.

**ooo**

" How are things for you all today?" A solider looks up at her and he gives her a lop-sided smile.

" The same as it was last time."

He was an Australian POW, transported here after one of the Japanese attacks on his unit in the South Pacific. The only one who had managed to make it back alive. She had remembered when he had arrived; malnourished, weak, and badly beaten... The young woman didn't even know if he was going to make it out alive. He pulled through, though, she made sure he did with the little things should managed to sneak to him and the rest of the POWs.

They had brought him here to be apart of the radio propaganda the government was staging against the Allies in the South Pacific. He had a great, clear, sounding voice that could be put to use. It was also that great voice that had managed to save his life. Now, every day for thirty minutes, he reads morale breaking messages from the government. Not because he wants to but because it keeps him alive for another day.

The soldier limped to a stool and she quickly rushed to his side, pulling the stool to him and letting him sit. He chuckled and smiled at her. She returned the smile and knelt down in front of him.

" You're too nice, Blue Eyes." He says softly in his proper Australian accent. " You're going to get yourself into trouble. Don't wanna be like us here."

" Trust me, I've tried." She says dryly. " Unfortunately, I take too much after my mother to be with the rest of the foreigners. I'm a risk, they say. A waste of money to support."

" I think you're more fortunate." He crosses his arms over his chest. " If we're getting treated like this, imagine how _they're_ being treated."

The blue eyed woman sighs at the thought. He was right; she was the fortunate one in this scenario even if she didn't want to be. She was living in limbo, no country to run to. She refused to denounce her country and become a Japanese citizen and the country in return acted like she didn't exist anymore. Not until recently, when she was offered to be the voice of demoralization to the Allied Voices. To mock the, antagonize them, to bring down their spirits everyday... Just so she could _survive_.

She stood up, straightening the wrinkles out of her skirt, and placed a hand on the Australian's shoulder. He rests a hand on top of hers and squeezes it, now being the one to give hope instead of her. She laughs at the irony and brings another hand to face to wipe her eyes.

" You gotta have hope, Blue Eyes." He whispers and she nods.

" Hope..." He lets her go and she brings her hand to her side. " I'll try."

Blue Eyes, as many of the POW known her as, leaves them behind. Her heart is heavy with guilt and that hope is no longer there. She approaches the double doors leading back out into the so called _free _world and stops once she sees that soldier standing in front of them. He looks down at her, piercing gold eyes unwavering against the cold stare of her blue eyes. They don't move from their positions for what seems like an eternity, both waiting to see who would make the first move, then he takes two quick strides at her, now only inches apart.

" Keep pushing your luck and you won't be as lucky as those prisoners." The soldier threaten, voice deep and husky. His English lacks the thick accent of the other officers of his rank and education; it was the first thing she had ever noticed about him.

" Idle threats." She snaps back.

" You've already been displaced and endangered the lives of your family once by the _Kenpeitai_ for your continuous belligerence and treason. Don't push them further."

" I'll keep it in mind." She took a side step to walk past him but he held out his _shin gunto_, blocking her from going further. The blue eyed enemy alien glares at the ranking officer, but he makes no move nor does he look at her.

" What do you say." It's not a question.

" _Excuse me_." Her Japanese is crude but it's enough for him to step aside and allow her to leave.

**ooo**

" _Here, Yukie-san_."

It's not him that gives her the script for tonight's show, but a higher-ranking officer. That short, balding, one that pulled her from her desk three months ago and gave her the ultimatum of this or being shipped to the South Pacific to be, as he sweetly enunciated, _solace wife_. She knew it was anything but how sweetly he had said the word. She takes the sheet from him and quickly glances over the words.

" _Thank you, Captain Satou_." She says in Japanese with a court bow. He doesn't say anything to her as she straightens up and she fights back the urge to slap Satou's condescending expression off of his face. " And my name is _Snow._ Katara Snow, not Yukie." She adds slowly.

" He can't pronounce it and refuses to." Here _he_ was again, coming on cue like always. Her watchdog to keep her in check. She hears the clicks from the heels of his boots hitting the hard surface of the floor and gives a side-glance towards the direction of the sound. " And since your name is Katara _Yukie_ Snow, I believe he has the right to use that middle name of yours." He puts emphasis on the name her mother gave her with a smirk as he came into view.

" I don't care." She says lowly.

" _Is she being belligerent again?_" The middle aged officer asked looking at his subordinate. The tall Lieutenant doesn't look at Satou and keeps his golden eyes locked on her.

" _No, Captain_. _She is just making a comment about something I probably mistranslated in the script_." She glares at him. " Am I right, _Yukie-san_."

" _Yes, you are. I was just commenting on a mistake._"

Captain Satou gives the two on more look and leaves the small waiting room. With the captain gone, the tension in the quiet room doesn't die down. It feels stronger than ever, the two of them refusing to back down... refusing to falter, _to give in_, to the other. The room is quiet, deathly quiet, save for the faint music playing over the speakers above them from the broadcast currently on air. He looks up at the clock above her head, over the door, and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He briskly walks past her.

" You go on air in ten minutes."

Katara crumbles the script in her hands as she watches him open the door and enter the studio. Once she hears the door shut she kicks an old chair over.

" Hey, boys, this is your favorite enemy, Blue Eyes, here with another hour of music and news to hurt your morale." Its cheerful, its filled with a malicious condescending tone, and she feels sick reading the crumpled script. " How's things going out there, my lost boys? Things going great for you out there? Hopefully you didn't work _too_ hard out there. Well, like I promised, tonight is going to be a special show for all my G.I.s fighting out there in the South Pacific. It's All Request Hour here on Tokyo Radio and our first requests comes from the boss himself." The record starts playing and the upbeat pop tune starts playing over the speakers.

He takes a drag from his cigarette as he watches her from across the room, legs crossed and an arm resting against a short green painted filing cabinet. She shifts under his watch and looks at everything but him. The officer notices this and flicks the ashes off of cigarette and takes another drag. The rest of the show goes on as normal.

" I've been ordered to escort you home tonight."

" Why?"

The golden eye Lieutenant is standing in front of her, a _shin gunto_ in one hand and his officer's hat tucked under his other arm. It was a pure display of superiority if anyone were to look at him. They were standing in front of the entrance to the Tokyo Radio building and he was blocking her from the double glass doors that lead to the outer world. His young face doesn't show any reaction to the snippy attitude of the small blue-eyed mixed girl in front of him and she growls in frustration.

" You're getting too friendly with the prisoners, that's why." He holds his hat in his left hand as he smoothes over his short black hair with his right to put it on. " Come." He makes a slight adjustment to the hat and steps aside.

Katara doesn't say anything as she walks past him, nor waits for him to open up the door, doing it herself. In front was a small black car waiting for them, a _Kenpentai_ officer sitting at the wheel and looking straight in front of him as if he's at attention. She takes a step forward but feels that man brush past her towards the car before she can even get there. He opens the back seat car door, motions for her to get in, and she clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to the black vehicle and get in.

He closes the door and its not long before he's joining her at the other side. The driver begins to drive the car once he hears the Lieutenant's door close. Katara shifts closer to the door to put as much distance as possible between each other and crosses her legs. He takes off his hat and puts it between the open space between them, resting his _shin gunto_ against the back of the driver's chair, and reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a black Zippo lighter. Katara side glances at him, noticing the brand of cigarettes. Lucky Strikes.

" For someone who spends his time writing anti-American sentiments all day, you sure love smoking their cigarettes." She says dryly as she brings her attentions back to the window. He chuckles as he takes a cigarette out of the crumbled pack

" I've taken a liking to this brand," He says casually, voice raspy as he puts the cigarette in his mouth. He extends his pack towards her, offering her a cigarette and she shakes her head. He puts the pack back in his pocket and lights the cigarette. " I don't know if you smoke, but," He takes a few puffs to keep it lit and puts the lighter back in his pocket. " Once you like a brand you just can't smoke any brand."

" …. My father said the same thing." She turns away from the window and settles into the back seat of the car. " I find it disgusting."

" Really, why?" A drag and he exhales the smoke. She waves her hand in front of her face trying to blow the smoke away from her.

" I'm a doctor... Well, not anymore..." She crossed her arms. " … I haven't practiced it... But, I know that those things are unhealthy. I laugh when I saw cigarette ads in the medical journals back home."

" Ah."

A silence settles between them. The only thing that could be heard was the engine of the car and the sound of the tires running over rocks and street debris. The lieutenant took one more drag from his cigarette and lowered his window slightly to flick it out into the street. Katara didn't say anything as he rolled the window back up.

" I don't know if you remembered my name, but, it's Kaneshiro." He says casually. " Kaneshiro Zuko." Katara looks at him, her expression uninterested in what he had to say but he still continued on. " Kane, it's written like this." He draws the strokes in the air with his finger. " Like, for money... and Shiro... like this. It's for castle. Do you know your kanji?"

" No."

" Did your parents teach you?"

" No."

" Did you show any interest?"

" No." Katara's right leg began to shake. It was something she did when she was nervous or irritated and Zuko had taken notice.

" Why?"

" Because my father is Inuit and he doesn't know Japanese and my mother didn't concern herself with making sure we spoke it while raising us. We lived in _America_, we were _American_ _citizens_; Japanese wasn't going to help us make it in society over there." She snapped as she emphasized the fact that she was an American. " I don't want to talk to you. I do not care about how your name is spelled. I do not like you."

The _Kenpentai_ officer who was driving looked at Zuko through his rear view mirror in concern and alert over the sudden attitude Katara was displaying. He didn't understand English but he could tell that the foreigner was angry in the back seat and was willing to do what was necessary if ordered to. Zuko held his hand up and shook his head which calmed him down. He looked at Katara and chuckled. Katara wanted to punch him in his face.

" Since I was ordered to make sure you stay out of trouble and because you are ultimately my responsibility, we're going to be spending a lot of time with each other. I personally do not want to waste precious time taming a wild uncivilized woman as yourself, doctor _or_ not. So I suggest we use this little car ride to get to know each other."

" What if I don't want to?"

" Well, if you don't want to engage in this social activity," Zuko leaned forward and placed his hand on her knee. " I could easily have you sent down into the South Pacific." He slowly slid his hand up her thigh, pushing her black skirt up slightly. " There are a lot of lonely men out there who would enjoy your comfort." His voice was deep, low, and raspy, enough just for her to hear and no one else. It sent a chill down her spine and she grasped onto the handle of the door next to her.

Katara heart raced as she shook with anger, glaring at the man next to her, " Get your hand off of me." She spat.

" You don't like this, right?" She didn't respond but her body did as she tried to move away. He squeezed her thigh and she yelped. " Of course you don't. So, let's weigh the options here. Have a platoon of men doing this to you every single day of your pathetic life or entertain me with conversation. Which do you want to do?"

" …. Get your hand off of me."

" Let me remind you, Ms. Snow," Zuko moved his hand further, his fingers brushing against the elastic of her thigh high nylons and strap of the garter belt that held them in place. " You decided to take this job, not me. You're the one who decided to go against the country you love so much for a piss poor amount of 150 yen a month. You're the one that sold what little freedom you did have to us. No one put you in this situation but _you_. So you really _don't_ another choice in the matter."

His words shot through her heart like a bullet. He was right, she had given up every right she had just so she could survive in this country another day. She was the one who took the offer to be apart of a propaganda show, to mock and destroy the morale of her countrymen fighting in the South Pacific, _not_ them. She could have starved, she could have continued what she was doing for the 70 yen a month she was making, but she was tired and this was a way to stay alive. Besides, she didn't have a choice in the matter – It was either this or being a comfort women – and being able to keep her dignity was the only excuse in her mind that kept her sane everyday.

" Fine!" She pushed his hand away from her, fighting back the tears in her eyes from the humiliation and guilt she felt. " I'll talk to you."

Zuko situated himself back on his side of the car and fixed the collar of his uniform with a smirk. Katara took a deep breath and exhaled as she attempted to maintain her composure. She fixed her skirt and edged closer to the door, trying to get as far away from him as she could. She brought a hand to her eyes and wiped away some tears. The Lieutenant had managed to finally break her strong spirit.

" So what do you want to know." She said quickly, her right leg shaking faster than it had been earlier. Zuko crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling of the car.

" _How about your mother's name, what is it_?" He asked in Japanese.

" Kana Shirakawa." She sniffled and wiped her nose. " _Shirakawa Kana_." She corrected in Japanese.

" And how do you write it?"

" I think..." She closes her eyes; trying to remember the times she saw the family name during her initial stay with her uncle. "... I remembered it written with the characters for white and river."

" _Pretty name_."

**ooo**

That one-day became several days and soon those several days become weeks. Her contact with the POW radio staff had dwindled down to nothing more than the only interaction she had when working on the radio show... and of course that time was supervised by either Zuko or another officer to make sure that they wouldn't conspire to do anything against the Japanese effort. The POWs understood her plight and agreed that she should do what they say rather than fight them and be in a worst situation. ' Don't make it so obvious you're against them ', the Australian would say and she would just smile sadly, nodding as he ruffled her hair like a father reassuring his daughter.

The only time she felt alone was when she was in her small, run down, apartment. Luckily the air raid that happened over a year ago had not affected her neighborhood in Tokyo, but a few blocks up a whole section was in complete ruins. The residents, along with some _Kenpeitai_, were still trying to clean up the mess and recover bodies. Zuko made sure to never drive by those sections when he escorted her home, but even if she didn't see it, the smell of death wasn't something that could be hidden.

Zuko had meant what he said when he wanted to talk to her on their car rides back to her place. Every night he would ask her questions and she would answer them vaguely, rarely in detail. The one thing she had noticed in their talks, though, were the fact that even though he had almost known everything about her he never divulged about himself or his life. While she hated and distrusted him, she couldn't fight back that thought in the back of her mind that wanted to know more about the officer. Did he have siblings, how old was he, where we was from, what were his parents like, where did he get that scar on his face... All these questions and no answer. She knew absolutely nothing about him.

He was an enigma to her and she hated that fact that she found it intriguing.

" I'm sure your family is interred with the rest of them." Zuko said casually as he ran his thumb over the pummel of his _shin gunto_. " I read that your President signed an order requiring all Japanese to be interred."

" I read their names..." Katara said softly as she looked outside to a worn torn city. " I don't know when they were relocated, but they've probably been in there for a year and a half now."

" Are they together?" Katara glanced at Zuko from over her shoulder. " Your other brother, his family, and your parents."

" I don't know." She looked back outside. " Considering he lived in Northern California and my parents in Southern, they've probably been separated. I know my parents are."

" Why do you think that?" He sounded so concern and she mentally questioned if he was sincere or just mocking her and her family's situation that she had no clue about other than the one newspaper report she managed to read.

" Because I didn't see his name in the list. He's not Japanese so they probably didn't have to inter him." Katara looked away and at her hands. She grasped onto the navy blue skirt and closed her eyes. " … She's all alone... It must be driving her insane..."

Zuko looked at the woman hunched over next to him. He slowly brought his hand to her and placed it on her shoulder, the gesture feeling odd to him yet right. She sighed in frustration and shrugged his hand away. Katara sat up and looked at Zuko, frowning slightly at his recent display of sympathy. She didn't need it, not coming from him. The enemy, the one that was keeping her locked in this web of lies and hate.

" I don't need your sympathy." She spat. " You don't even understand my situation. You're just some high ranking officer that kisses this country's ass and sleep well at night knowing your family is _protected_."

" Don't make assumptions on things you don't know about." Zuko warned, his voice rising. He was glaring at her and Katara felt her shield chipping away as she looked into his piercing gold eyes. " I do understand what you're going through. You're not the _only one _suffering in this war. Stop acting like you are."

" I don't see you crying with the rest of them out in the street about losing a love one to the raids or to the Allies in the South Pacific." Katara turned to face the front and crossed her legs. " You're just a cold hearted bastard who doesn't give a shit." She said slow and coolly.

Zuko's jaw tensed and before the Doctor could register what was happening, he grabbed her wrists tightly and yanked her to him. Katara was no more than a few inches apart from him, their faces just close enough that she could feel the heat radiate off of his body. She yelped in pain as his grip grew tighter around her slender wrist and turned her face away from his. He grabbed her chin with his other hand and forced her to look at him.

" I told you to don't make assumptions." He seethed as he glared at her and released her chin. " I am suffering as much as any other person is in this war. I have seen death. I have seen people that I cared about deeply _die_ right in front of me." Katara squirmed against his hold as she tried to get away but he held her firmer. She turned her face away. " _Look at me_!" He yelled in Japanese.

Katara faced him, eyes wide in fear. This was the first time she ever witnessed him this angry before. She had never seen him shake before nor has he ever been this aggressive with her. She bit her lip and winced from the pain.

" I-I'm sorry..." She whimpered. " Please let me go..."

" My uncle left this country and became an American citizen against my family's wishes." He said slowly, his voice filled with pain and anger. " My grandfather disowned him and he lost everything because he wanted to live an American dream. He came and he lived that _American dream_ you people boast about and now he's locked up in an interment camp. The country that he gave up everything for, even his family, and for what? Now he's lost _everything_.

" My cousin, his _son_, was killed in Korea by a suicide bomber while doing his service to our country. My uncle _never_ had the chance to come to his funeral." He was shaking and Katara felt him release his hold on her wrist. " I was there when it happened... I saw it with my _own eyes_... So don't you _dare_ say that I don't know what pain is."

He shoved her back and she hit the door hard. Katara gasped from the pain and winced. She slowly sat up and rubbed her lower back to ease the sharp pain she felt. Zuko turned in his seat so that he wasn't facing her but outside. He rested his elbow on handle and chin in the palm of his hand as he watched the faintly lit streets of the city. Katara glanced at Zuko from her side of the car and took a good look at the scar on his face that wasn't obscured by the poor lighting inside the car. It wasn't a big scar, nor was it small, just only around his eye. It looked like he was burned. So, maybe that's where he got it from...

" I'm sorry, Lieutenant Kaneshiro." She whispered. " I'm sorry."

**ooo**

For the first time in the near year of knowing him, Katara had actually felt guilty for her hostile behavior towards him. She had assumed he was like all the other soldiers she had encountered in her stranded stay in Japan; rude, hostile, and authoritative. She didn't take into consideration his reasons in what he did or why he was serving the Imperial Army, she had just assumed. The woman had realized that her way of thinking was no different than any other person in this war. Misconstrued ideals fueled by rage and ignorance, lacking thought or rationality, all focused on hate and destruction for one another.

They had spent the next two weeks in silence. Zuko never initiated conversation and she didn't have the courage to speak either. She wanted to ask him questions, she wanted to probe him further and figure him out, but she was afraid to. She was afraid to anger him and to see him look at her with so much distaste that left her feeling so much less of a person. Her dislike for him, her blinded hate, was becoming sympathy and curiosity. There was more to him that met the eye.

Katara sat on her side the black car that has been her escort to and from work for the past six months. The hot summer days had turned into bitter cold winters. New Year was approaching and it was only proving to remind the young doctor of how long she has been away from home and her family. She glanced at Zuko who was seated silently with his arms crossed. No change, he was still refusing to acknowledge her.

" I can't believe that in a few days it's going to be 1944." Katara said as she tried to start a conversation. " _Four years here and my Japanese is still pretty bad._" She added lightly in her mother's native tongue. Zuko shifted in his seat but did nothing more. She gave a small, nervous, laugh and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. " How old are you?"

" I'm twenty-nine." Its short, flat, and to the point but she doesn't care, at least she's making some progress.

" Ah," She nods. " I'm twenty-seven."

" I know."

" Oh, well... Could you tell me about your family?" He gives her a side glance and she holds a hand up defensively. " You asked all sorts of questions about my personal life, now it's my turn."

He sighs and returns his attentions to the window, " I am the oldest of two. My sister is a year younger than you and serves as my father's secretary. My mother died of pneumonia when I was ten and my father is a politician." He turns away from the window, settles into the chair, but he doesn't look at her. " My family is from Okinawa. Kaneshiro is a common name in that area."

Ah, so he was one of those rich and entitled people like she suspected. No one his age achieved that rank or had the education he had without being from a family of significant influence. Being the son of a politician definitely helped in the politics of this country and he was just another prime product of the system.

" Any nieces or nephews? Children?"

" No nieces or nephews and no children." He pauses and flicks imaginary dust off of his pants. " But, I was married once."

Katara blinked. He was married? Someone actually found something attractive about this guy and his ill tempered-superiority complex personality? The doctor was actually shocked to find this out. She figured that he was alone and was going to die alone because he was terrible when interacting with other people. He took note of her reaction and laughed bitterly. Everyone always gave him the same reaction when they found out.

" It was arranged. She was the daughter of a wealthy business owner who had a big influence over the politics here. Her family helped mine out considerably."

" What was her name? Did you love her?"

" Her name was Mai Kuroki, and, I grew to love her." He crossed his legs. " She wasn't one that showed her emotions through words or actions."

" So..." Katara hesitated but it seemed as if Zuko had already known what she was going to ask next.

" She passed away six years ago. During childbirth."

The car had stopped in front of the apartment complex that Katara lived at. Katara decided that the timing was perfect as she gathered her purse, finding the topic a little bit too deep for her to dive into. She adjusted the scarf around her neck and opened the door to the Mercedes. She gave him one last look before exiting the car and closing the door.

They waited and watched her enter the apartment building before driving off into the night. Zuko slid down the seat and sighed in frustration. The officer didn't understand why he got so personal with her or why he even decided to entertain her questions. It had just seemed easy to do, like it was natural to just tell her those things, even going as far as talking about his deceased wife and unborn child – something that he rarely, if ever, talked about.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed the woman for getting to him. He took his officers cap that sat next to him, placed it on his head and pitched it low to cover his eyes, and closed them. The _Kenpentai _officer that has been their drive for the past six months looked at Zuko with concern through the rear view mirror. The lieutenant didn't notice it though.

" _Is everything alright, Lieutenant?_" He asked with concern.

" _Everything is fine._" Zuko lied.

**ooo**

" How come your English is so good? You don't have an accent."

" I spent a few years in America as a child and went to school there. My father felt that as his oldest and successor I should have a good command of the language. I came home, finished my general education here and I went back and got my degree at a university over there."

" So you must have made friends over there, right?"

There was a pause, and then, " Yes, I did." He takes his officer cap into his hands and runs his fingers against the gold star on the front as he speaks. " In college, I made a few close ones. We were a group of law and political majors and we always managed to get into some trouble."

" Are you still in touch with them?"

Zuko shook his head, " No. After we got into war again in Manchuria with the Russians, I lost contact with many of them. The last one I spoke to, Aang, was a few months before the Pearl Harbor mission. He became a lawyer."

" Do you miss them?"

" I can't say that I miss them. War has tore us apart. Our ideals are different... One of my friends and classmate's family was from Manchuria, he blamed me for the war and the death of his friends and family. He joined the service, but I don't know what happened to him. His name was Jet." The officer sits back into his chair and tosses his hat over onto the seat. He rubbed his eyes. " What I do miss is those times we did have together. They were the most peaceful and happiest moments in my life." It's a whisper and Katara sits and watches him. She doesn't ask him another question for the remainder of the ride.

**ooo**

The cold winter was ending and Spring was approaching. The newspapers and local radio stations had already reported the blossoming of the Sakura trees in the southern regions of Japan. It was going to be a matter of days before the war torn city of Tokyo was going to witness the blossoms. Despite the war going on and how close to home it was hitting, it still didn't hamper the spirits of the people. Katara couldn't understand how they could still continue to push on despite all the loss. It was something that mesmerized her and sort of left her feeling faint tinges of envy.

It was a cold night and the car did little to hold heat. She rubbed the side of her arms in a futile attempt to build up heat in the coat she wore. She sighed and stopped. It was doing nothing and she just wanted to get home and drink a hot cup a tea while sitting at her _kotatsu_. She looked up at Zuko who was looking ahead of him and doing nothing else. It always started off like this, as if there was some unstated rule between them that conversations only started when he asked a question and if he didn't ask one within a certain amount of time then she could start.

They weren't friends. They were only two individuals with a mutual understanding for each other. They understood their situation; they grew to know about their families, friends, and personal hardships. Just only things that they felt comfortable in talking about, there were still things left unknown that the two refused to talk about and if either one of them got too close to the subject the conversation would be cut short. But, since they were running out of things to talk about within their comfort zone, the 'conversations' were becoming few and less.

" If you'd like, would you mind having a cup of tea?"

They had already arrived at her small apartment building and the offer had taken Zuko out of his current daze. He looked at her; at the way she held her purse in her white gloved hands, the way she bit her red painted lips in anticipation of his answer, the way she always wore a blue headband to pull her hair back... It was the first time he actually _looked_ at her as a person than a responsibility, an obligation. She turned away and opened the door as she shook her head.

" Nevermi-"

" Sure."

She turned around and looked at him, mildly shocked that he even considered her offer. He didn't say anything else to her as he grabbed his hat and _shin gunto_ and opened his door. He told the driver an order that she didn't catch when she got out of the car and closed the door. The driver left after Zuko closed his door and they stood there looking at each other with a gap between them that once was a black Mercedes 170 V.

It was always like this, one waiting for the other to make the move. It didn't matter if it was a cold March night or that they were standing in the middle of the street potentially blocking traffic. It was always a battle of wits between them. Katara made the first move and walked past him to her building.

" Follow me." She brushed past him. " I don't want the neighborhood spreading more rumors."

She lived in an old neighborhood. It was the first thing he had noticed once he entered the building and the collection of shoes outside the door. In an air raid, this area would be destroyed instantaneously. He watched as she took off her heels and followed suit before silently following her down the old quiet hallway to her apartment.

She opened the door to her apartment and moved out the way, allowing him to step in first. Katara turned on the light and moved past him as she took off her scarf and gloves. It was small, _very_ small, and bare. He could clearly hear the conversations of everyone living around her through the paper-thin walls and the smell of mildew was strong. It seemed as if no one was taking care of the building and it was simply deteriorating. He couldn't believe that she was living like this.

" I don't have much but try to make yourself comfortable." She said while turning on the stove. He walked over to the _kotatsu_ and began to turn it on. It was slightly older and definitely showed its age, but it worked.

Zuko sat down once the unit was warm enough, placed his _shin gunto_ and officer's cap on the floor next to him, and slid his legs underneath the table. He watched Katara as she prepared the tea, noticing how the young woman hummed a foreign tune to herself. It was soft and melodic, like something a mother would hum to her baby as she rocked him to sleep. The officer closed his eyes and relaxed to her humming, finally, after six years, to rest.

A few moments later, Katara had finished brewing the tea. She got a tray and two tea cups, placing the cups on top. She poured the green tea in the cups and gently placed the kettle back on the burner. The young doctor picked up the tray.

" It's done. Sorry I took so long." She said as she turned around to walk over to the _kotatsu_. She looked up and saw Zuko hunched over, arm propped up on the tabletop as his head rested on the palm of his hand, sound asleep. She gasped softly and slowly walked over with the tray of cups.

Placing the tray down softly on the table, she looked at the sleeping officer. She saw how his lips were briefly parted, listened to his soft breathing, and taking in how relaxed his face was; something she had never seen in all the time knowing him. She slowly reached out to him to wake Zuko up but stopped midway, bringing her hand back and smiling softly to herself. No, she rather let him have this moment.

Katara walked over to where her futon and sheets were folded and grabbed the old, beat down, cover. She walked back and gently placed the cover around his shoulders and sat down across from him at the table. She took her cup of tea into her delicate hands and took a sip, merely watching the man in front of her in silence.

Zuko stirred and sat up, his left arm feeling numb and his lower back aching. He blinked a few times looked around, trying to remember where he was at again. He noticed the old covers around his body and briefly ran his hand against the rough sheets before looking across the table at the young woman sleeping across from him. Her arm was tucked under her head like a pillow, her soft breathing barely audible. An empty tea cup lied next to her, his untouched.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and continued to observe the woman in front of him. Her hair tumbled down her back, her full lips slightly open, her body unstill besides the steady rise of her chest from her steady breathing. He sat there, taking in every detail of her, every little thing that had set her apart from the rest. From her dark brown, wavy, hair to the warm tan skin.

Zuko licked his lips. Yes, maybe in some ridiculous way, he was starting to become attracted to the American doctor. He laughed bitterly to himself, the mere thought absolutely ludicrous to him, yet, scaring him as well. Katara stirred and he froze in place.

" … Ah… you're awake…." She mumbled as she woke up, a sleepy smile on her features. Katara sat up, blinked a bit, and pushed back the hair that had fallen over her shoulders. " I made you tea, but you fell asleep on me." A yawn and a stretch. " It's cold now."

" I can see." It came out curter than he had expected too and she merely waved him away.

" Your driver is probably waiting for you."

" I should be going, it is late."

" Yes, it is." Another stretch and a yawn. " Thank you for coming, even if you did fall asleep."

Zuko didn't say anything as he pushed the covers off of him, grabbing his _shin gunto_ and standing up. Katara didn't say anything either as she did the same, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt. She knew not to expect it from him. She was starting to hate it.

" I'll… escort you to the door." She said softly and followed him to the door.

They both stood there at the door, side by side, as if one was afraid to make the next move. Katara turned around and, for the first time, bowed. Zuko looked over and blinked, caught of guard by the action – it was something she never did. Katara was never accepting to the Japanese way of life. He turned around as she straightened up.

" Thank you, again." She said softly. He simply nodded. They were just inches apart, the small area barely open enough for the both of them.

" Th… Thank you for inviting me." He said, hesitantly. Katara nodded and pushed some strands of hair away from her face. Zuko licked his dry lips.

He didn't move, instead he kept looking at the woman before him. The faint light that shun from the kitchen of the small apartment didn't light much of the dark corner they were in. Yet, he tried to make out every feature of her delicate face – from her full lips, to her little button nose, and her sharp blue eyes. He didn't look anywhere else, instead caught up in how… beautiful her eyes were.

Katara bit her lower lip as he continued to look at her. She felt nervous and uncomfortable. He has _never_ looked at her in such a way. Of course he has stared at her, observed her, but never in the way that he was now… as if he was actually looking at her as a woman; not like an obligation. She opened her mouth to say something but shut it… No, don't say anything.

He slowly leaned over, pausing briefly before closing the gap before them, and brushed his lips against hers ever so lightly that sent a shiver down her spine. She could hear her heart beating rapidly in her chest. He pressed his lips against hers, sealing them in a kiss. It was soft, it was quick, and before she even had a chance to register or respond he had quickly pulled away.

" I..I'm sorry. I…" He quickly opened the door. " _Good night._"

He left before she had a chance to say anything. The door shut behind him with a loud click. Then again, she was left speechless.

It seemed like it took forever to get out that building. Once outside he looked up at the sky and inhaled the cold spring air. He was falling for her… that's not what he had wanted. Before he could fall deeper into his thoughts, the sounds of a running engine took him out of his musings. It was his private escort. He put on his shoes, quickly made his way to the car, and got in.

" _Everything fine, sir? You were there for at least an hour._" The solider said with mild concern. Zuko waved him away.

" _Everything's fine._"

They weren't friends… Just two with a mutual understanding.

**ooo**

" You left this… " The dark green colors of the cap contrasted against her mocha colored skin of her hands as she held the object out to him. He takes the hat from her gently and puts it on.

" Thank you." He says it with not much emotion and her heart just skips slightly but her indifferent expression doesn't give away the disappointment she felt. He could see the light in her eyes fade away, and he mentally sighs, though his face doesn't show his discontent. " You're on in ten minutes."

She nods and heads off to the recording booth to prepare for her show. He watches her disappear down the mildly lit hallway and licks his lips. He can still remember how soft her lips were against his, almost hauntingly, and growls in frustration.

The rest of the night is like any other night and the two of them spend the rest of it in complete silence; the invisible wall set up between clearly obvious and both know the exact reason why.

**ooo**

The seasons pass, the war intensifies, and for some reason their mutual relationship is back to a point where there is no longer that strained, forced, feeling between them. They are comfortable around each other, one not afraid to ask the other a question or try to push them. It is as if the two realize that building a world amongst themselves helps push out the realities of the real world outside – Japan is losing island after island, the western front was grim, and it seemed like everything was finally about to topple over. Of course, the propaganda around the country painted a different picture. But, they knew… it was anything but.

The New Year had gone by and it only had reminded Katara that it was another year trapped in a country far from home; another year forced to aid the enemy in destroying the morale of her fellow countrymen. She was now growing tired…. It was 1945. Five years have passed since she arrived to help her ailing relative.

" This war is never going to end." She said tiredly as they sat in that Mercedes on the way to her apartment. She rested her head against the cold glass and closed her eyes.

" There's always an end." Zuko merely replied, his voice flat and monotone. He was tired too. " The question is, who will win."

She didn't want to know.

**ooo**

The sounds from the engines of B-29s sent the building in a panic. Everyone had abandoned what they were doing to run outside, some looking up to see where they were coming from while others tried to seek cover, knowing what was going to come next. Katara looked around in confusion as she watched the radio employees scatter about in the office where she worked. She stood up and pushed her chair back with one hand without looking. Was that what she thought she heard? Was those planes?

Suddenly the loud sound of an explosion was heard throughout the city and Katara ducked behind her desk. She covered her head with her hands and bit her lower lip. They were here, the Americans were finally here and they were starting their bombing raids… It was finally beginning. Part of her felt relief at the fact that her country finally was taking the offense but the larger part of her felt fear: the fear of dying in the raids.

Katara felt someone's hand on her exposed wrist and she screamed in fear. The person pulled her up from and turned her around. Blue eyes met gold ones, and against her better wishes that moment, she actually felt relief in seeing the lieutenant.

" The order to evacuate was announced fifteen minutes ago, what are you still doing here?" He yelled. She blinked; Katara probably didn't hear it over the commotion that had just happened. " _Come_!"

He pulled her from her desk and led her out the office, never giving her an opportunity to grab her coat and gloves. Once they reached the entrance to the studio, he opened the door and the cold February wind gushed through. It cut through her body like knives and she shivered from the cold air. He didn't pay any mind as he led her out the building, down the steps, and to the waiting car.

The loud rumble of four propellers flying above them in the sky roared over their heads and Katara couldn't help but look up at the bomber. They finally came… The hope that the end was finally near eased her and she smiled. The moment of hope didn't last long when she felt herself being pulled inside the Mercedes by force. She fell onto her back on the cushioned seat and slightly winced from the sting of pain. She saw Zuko reach over her and she moved her legs out the way allowing him to slam the door shut.

" _Drive me to the family residence. Now!_"

" _Yes, sir!" _The car took off and Katara shifted again in the back seat, falling on top of Zuko's lap. She groaned as she sat up.

" Are you crazy? What are you doing just _standing_ there in the middle of a raid." Zuko chided, glaring at the woman. Katara crossed her arms and sighed in frustration.

" I got caught in the moment!" She said sharply. There was another explosion and she jumped at the sound. Looking outside her window, the streets were in panic. Soldiers tried to direct citizens to safe areas while people tried to evacuate, many running and walking in confusion. Katara was lucky she was not caught in that state of panic.

" You could have died." He said lowly. " _Never get_ _caught_ _in the moment_." Katara looked at him and then at her hands in her lap. She grasped onto the heavy cotton of her navy blue dress.

" _I'm sorry_."

She didn't know where they were going. The city scenery had long turned into forest and the day had turned into night. She was tired, occasionally drifting off into a sleep but being awoken once the car hit a pothole in the unpaved road. She had looked back once and while towards Tokyo, taking in the sights of the smoke rising from the city, the planes long gone after making their strikes. Katara made a silent prayer; whoever was watching her made sure that she made it out of there alive…. And by the one man she hated nonetheless, or, had grown to respect by now.

It wasn't much longer before they had pulled into a compound, a well-kept garden surrounding a decent sized traditional home. It didn't look like anyone was there and Katara glanced at Zuko as the car slowly stopped in front of the home.

" Where are we?" She asked. He opened his car door.

" My family home." He said as he got out.

She sat in the car for a moment longer, trying to collect her thoughts and take in the situation, and got out as well. The car left after she had closed the door and she stood in front of the entrance to the dark old home, Zuko long gone inside, the cold air nothing to the fear and worry in her heart.

**ooo**

" You'll be staying here until it's safe to return to the city." Zuko had said flatly as he lit the various candles around the open family room. " Right now, it looks like the Americans will be continuing their attacks and because you're my responsibility, having you die on me would not bode well with my superiors." Katara slightly frowned but he continued, making his way towards the center of the room where the _horigotatsu_ laid. He crouched down, removed the grate cover, and checked the coals. " You're the only American female on this operation, so your knowledge and…" He looked up at her. " Style… for better lack of a word is valuable."

" That's comforting to know." Katara said dryly, rolling her eyes. Zuko didn't say anything but reach into his pocket to pull out his box of matches. He pulled out one, lit it, and tossed it into the charcoal. He placed the grate cover over the stones and stood up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

" I'm sure there's some clothes here left in your size that you could change into." He undid the buttons of his coat and opened it up, shrugging off the coat and revealing a white button down shirt underneath. " I haven't been here in five years, so excuse the conditions of this place. Follow me, I'll show you to your room for the time being."

Zuko took one of the lit candles for a guiding light and led Katara through the old home, the faint light barely illuminating much around them. The wooden floors creaked under their covered feet with each step they took and the air around them was getting colder and colder the farther they were from the center of the house. Katara began to take notice of things, like how despite the house being apparently vacant for so many years, it still looked like someone maintained it. How big it was, how much it emphasized the fact that Zuko Kaneshiro was not an average Japanese man but one from money who grew up with a silver spoon. She mentally sighed.

They soon rounded a corner and off to a covered, open, corridor. To the left of them was a well-kept garden, faintly illuminated by the waning crescent in the sky. She looked at Zuko, who lead her quietly through the home, and back at the garden.

" Who's taking care of this place if you haven't been here in years?"

" The family caretaker." Zuko said matter-of-fact. They entered another enclosed hallway. " He lives off site, but he comes everyday and takes care of the gardens."

" If you don't mind me asking, why doesn't anyone live here anymore?"

They finally stopped in front of a room and Zuko turned around to face her. The orange glow from the flickering flame of the camera seemed to intensify the color of his eyes even more than usual and Katara swore her heart skipped a beat because of it. She mentally kicked herself.

" This home was in my mother's family for years… It was given to me after I got married." Zuko said, again, no emotion in his deep raspy voice. " My mother's family is from here but they haven't lived in this home for a long time."

" So… " She licked her lips nervously. " You left… because she died."

" … Yes." He turned around and slid open the door to the room

She gasped, " I'm sorry…"

" What are you sorry for?" Katara opened her mouth but he abruptly cut her off. " Never mind, just come in here. "

They entered the room, everything quiet except for the slight creaking of the old tatami mats under their bare feet. Zuko made his way to one of the dressers and lit one of the lanterns with the candle, the dark room now lit; not enough to show everything but dim enough to figure your way around. Katara looked around the room. It was modest and practically bare. Save for the dressers near Zuko, the only other things in the room was the futon rolled in the corner and a watercolor painting that hung on the wall across from them.

Zuko faced her, " You can sleep here tonight. It's not much, but tomorrow I'll get you situated."

He left her alone. It was hard to sleep in that cold room.

**ooo**

" The city is badly damaged but luckily the district that the station is at is untouched." Zuko said as the two of them sat in front of the _horigotatsu_, trying to take in whatever warmth they could get on that cold February morning. She nodded sullenly. Her body ached and she was tired; she had not slept well last night. Looking up at Zuko, she noticed he had not even changed out of his uniform.

" And my neighborhood…"

" No reports yet," He ran a hand down his face. " They mostly targeted the urban areas, not residential. If the reports come back and there's no damage, you'll be going back."

" And the radio show?"

" We have someone in your place for now."

" Oh." She sighed softly and pulled the covers around her tiny frame even closer. Katara shifted to get more comfortable and focused across from here at the opening to the garden in the center of the home.

The trees were bare and the flowers weren't in bloom. It was as dead as the house they were in. The pound was becoming overgrown with moss and various water plants. Even if there was someone taking care of the home, it still couldn't make up for the lack of life inside. She looked off to the right at a small dresser against the wall. A small-framed picture of a woman was on top with an incense holder in front of it. It looked like it had not been used in years.

" That's my wife." Zuko said, voice hoarse and deep, as he noticed Katara looking at the picture. The young woman slightly jumped and quickly looked away.

" She was beautiful." Katara said softly as she looked at her hands.

" Yes, she was…" She glanced back at the picture again and took a better look. A long face, sharp eyes, thin lips, pale skin, and black hair delicately styled. A traditional pureblood beauty… It would only make sense he'd marry her. " Strong willed and beautiful."

" Do you miss her?" Katara didn't look at him for fear of what she would see, so she looked at the garden across from them instead. He felt him shift next to her.

" I would be lying if I said no."

They sat in silence for a brief moment, watching the dead garden in front of them and keeping to their own individual thoughts. Then, before she could take it back, Katara slowly reached from under her covers for Zuko's hand. She expected him to flinch or even pull back, but instead he did nothing. She slowly pulled her hand back but he quickly grabbed it and intertwined his with hers. She looked up at him with wide eyes but he didn't turn to look at her, only focusing on the cold winter scenery in front of them.

So she turned her attentions back to the scenery as well, and for that brief moment as they sat there hand in hand, she finally felt some warmth in this cold foreign country.

… Even if it was in the hands of the enemy.

**ooo**

Katara finds out that her building was destroyed in the fires in the aftermath of the air raid on a cold morning two days later. It was snowing lightly, and despite finding out that she had nothing but the clothes on her back, the scenery of the white snow dusting over the bare trees and statues of the garden eased her mind. It took her away from the realities and if she continued to look out at that garden the war, her troubles, her hardship would simply disappear. Because, in the mountains, the war doesn't exist – it's untouched, separated, the last haven.

" There's clothes here for you until we can get back to the city." Zuko says as he places a hot cup of green tea in her opened hands. She blinks as she's taken out of her own personal heaven and looks at the ceramic up in her hands. She can feel him sit next to her, his warmth radiating off of his body and making her realize how cold it actually was, and brings the cup to her lips. " I know its hard losing everything, but," He pauses and she looks at him, the cup still at her lips, the heat warming her cold cheeks and nose. " But… It'll all be over soon."

She can hear the uncertainty in his voice and closes her eyes. The war has reached the home front and he knew that they were losing. He knew the Pacific front was falling… He knew that everything he had known for years was now falling apart and despite _everything_ he still tried to be calm and strong, even if it was for the enemy. Katara wishes she could be happy for the turn of events, that she finally be hopeful and relieved that the end was near and it could be in her favor, but she couldn't. Because her heart wouldn't let her…

So she takes a sip from her tea and opens her eyes to see that the snow has stopped and the sun peaking from above the rooftop of the garden's walls.

" Thank you." She whispers.

**ooo**

She can hear the planes fly over the home day after day until they fade off into the horizon. She's safe in this home in the mountains, where its cold and damp and the evergreen shield the sun's rays from peaking through the windows and doors. The blouse's sleeves are a bit long and the skirt is too tight, but she doesn't complain because its all she has left. There's barely anything to eat, but it's not a concern because it's not a stretch from how she was living before. There's a garden in the center of the home, but she doesn't visit it. There's rooms in this home she's never been to, but she doesn't bother to find out what's inside of them.

She sits by the _horigotatsu_ and reads a book. Because, in some bizarre way, the sound of a water fountain, the cold breeze that occasionally crosses through the open family room, and the yellow pages of an old book written in English allows her to forget the situation she's in now. When she's finished, he comes to her with another book.

" She loved to read, just like you." He says as she takes the slightly worn book from his hands.

She doesn't say anything but nods her head as she places the book in her lap. She looks down at it and her fingers run over the faded title printed against the green hard cover. She looks at title and bites her lower lip. Enough…

" She liked some English novels, but preferred them translated…"

She doesn't say anything because it hurts her to hear him talk about his dead wife. He kneels down in front of her and she looks up at him, into his gold eyes, and hates that her heart races. She hates that she's now nervous instead of angry, filled with contempt, and an urge to hurt him. She doesn't want to care but she can't help it.

" Did coming here make you remember her?"

He paused, " Yes, it did."

She hated the fact that she had become a jealous woman.

**ooo**

The days are getting warmer, the garden is returning back to life, but the ritual is still the same. The garden's caretaker greeters her with his silent nod every morning, spending his hour cleaning and trimming before returning to wherever he called home. She sits at the small table that covered the _horigotatsu_, drinking hot tea that he had prepared earlier in the morning, and reads a book – this time in Japanese – and resigns her-self to the daily mantra that had became her life.

She doesn't know how long she's been in this large home away from the city but what she does know is the amount of books she has read (twenty-one) and how many cherry blossoms in the garden had begun to blossom (three out of five). She knows when he'll join her at the table (before ten in the morning) and when he'll leave to do his work (three in the afternoon). She can count how many times he has compared her to his former wife (fifteen times)…

… and yet she can't recall how long it's been since she's arrive at this sanctuary.

As she turns to the next page in a book she can barely read, she realizes that maybe she doesn't want to know. She feels comfortable.

She feels safe.

**ooo**

Everyday a telegram arrives at his home, delivered personally by his _Kenpentai_ officer. Radio communication would be a risk and the telephones are down. She waits to hear for the dreaded command, _Return to Tokyo_ but it never comes. She wonders what is going on outside these walls; were the Japanese winning or loosing the war? He never tells her and she doesn't have the courage to ask.

They busy themselves with idle conversation. Childhood memories (visiting Alaska for the first time), information about their families (he's never gotten along with his father), tragedies (the death of his wife), and happiness (earning her doctorates); but never do they bring up the war. Doing so would only remind them of the barriers that separated them – she, an American citizen, and he a Japanese soldier.

But one warm spring day, when all five cherry blossoms are in bloom, she asks him, " What will happen to me if you win the war?"

He looks at her, silent for almost two minutes, and then replies, " I do not know."

Of course, he had an idea of what would happen to her – but he refused to look at the future because she would no longer exist in his world.

It was that moment that Zuko had come to the realization that he was attracted to her (love was too strong of a word)… and he would do anything to make sure she was safe. He had lost someone once before, he wasn't going to loose another one again. So, he looks at her from across the table, watches how she takes a sip from her cup of tea, and waits for her reply.

" I guess we'll deal with it when the time comes." Katara says softly, a small, yet sad smile on her features. She sounds unabashed, almost as if she was telling him _'c'est la vie'_ but he knew, deep inside, that it was anything but that.

She had already known her fate as well.

**ooo**

Eventually, the telegrams stop coming and the two fall into this synchronous ritual of waking up, greeting each other, having conversation, walking through the property, and learning more about each other. They feel as if they're a world away from all the carnage in the world today and feel safe, continuing to develop their own little universe between themselves.

He should investigate the situation, but he won't.

He should send for a courier, but he refuses.

He should stop eating oranges with her by the mossy pound, but he can't.

" That hat is old," Katara remarks with a laugh. She's not like Mai; she doesn't cover her mouth when she does. She simply laughs, loud and full of life. " Don't you have anything else?"

Zuko takes off his old, ivory, fedora and examines it. The color is fading into a dull yellow and has lost some of its shape. The black trim still has its satin luster, though, and he shrugs his shoulders, " It's six years old."

He says the excuse it like its an obvious fact and she rolls her eyes. Katara takes the hat from him (Mai wouldn't do that) and she puts it on. She tilts it slightly to the right, brings some of her long, wavy, hair forward and holds her arms out over her head like she's displaying the old hat. She's smiling and here blue eyes are brighter than he had ever seen them before.

She's actually _happy_.

" How does it look on me?"

Katara looks absolutely ridiculous with it on; it doesn't match the deep blue dress she's wearing (purchased by him after sending his assistant to run and get her clothes) or suits her round face, but Zuko can't bring himself to say anything negative, so he says, " It suits you."

She looks at him, raises an eyebrow as her hands fall onto her lap, and scoffs, " You're not a good liar, Mr. Kaneshiro." She's chides mockingly.

This time, it's Zuko that laughs, and Katara is caught off guard. She's never seen him laugh before; smile, yes, but laugh? Never. He's always been serious, aloof, detached – but never _happy_. Before she has an opportunity to react, he leans across the plate of oranges and scattered orange peels between them and he's only centimeters away from her face. He looks at her, piercing gold eyes into bright blue ones, and he closes the gap between them.

His eyes are closed. Her eyes are open. She's holding her breath and is stiff. He's relaxed and pushing forward. And her lips, oh, they're as soft as he had remembered them to be a year ago; but she's not responding – just like the last time – and he pulls away – just like last time. Katara can't think, her heart is racing against her chest – thump, thump, thump – in synch with each moment's second he pulls away from.

Does she want this?

Does she need it?

Katara leans forward and kisses him. Yes, she wants this. Zuko's hesitating, she gently pushes forward, and he falls back onto his hands. Yes, she needs this. The oranges roll off of the plate with a clink when her bare knee knocks against it. She pulls back slightly, brushing her full lips against his, coaxing him to respond. He looks at her; eyes closed, lips responding, and he returns the kiss. First, uncertain, and then with a growing confidence as he rises up, them never separating, and she leans back with a gasp that he seizes. The old fedora falls off, gently lying against her hand in the grass.

She tastes like sweet oranges. She's not Mai.

She's Katara.

He places a hand against her neck, feeling her rapid pulse and the slight rumble of the moan that escapes. Then, she breaks away for air and he rests his forehead against her own.

Their eyes are closed. They're breathing heavily. They're wondering if this is the right thing.

**ooo**

The first time it happens, it is so hot that their bodies were slick with their own sweat. The light sundress Katara wears sticks to her skin like a second skin, foregoing to wear any undergarments to feel comfortable against the miserable Japanese summer. Zuko is shirtless, black slacks rolled up to his knees, as he tries to beat the summer heat. The loud noises of lotuses sounded like drums against their ears. Even as the sun sets, the humid heat remains, continuing to torture the two.

And despite the heat, she feels him move behind her, running his fingers against her upper arm and sending shivers down her spine. She feels his lips against her neck and its so hot, so _so_ hot, Katara leans back into him as his hand travels further down, over the course fabric of her white dress, against the sweat slicked skin of her inner thighs, up… up… and then she's lost to him and everything around her.

It is muggy. So muggy she can barely breath and the doctor feels as if she's drowning; but he doesn't stop and she continues to fall deeper and deeper into a haze of sex and confusion. When he pushes her left leg up, higher on his back, and pushes deeper she feels like she'll explode at any moment.

It's so hot. So, so _hot_ that her skin feels like it's burning. And his hands, Katara feels as if they're burning her. Her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs… It's not _enough_. She wants to feel _alive_.

And when she feels light headed, the pressure building up inside of her, her body quivering and fingernails digging deeper into his back – enough to draw blood – she finally feels it; the release makes her feel _alive_. She's crying out his name and pulling him closer. Moments later, he's groaning into the crook of her sweaty neck and rides out his orgasm before falling limp against her.

The sun is setting and the family room is basked in a blood orange color – it would be a hot night. It's so humid; they're finding it hard to breath. It's like an invisible weight upon their hot, sweaty, bodies. But, despite that, they don't separate from each other and Katara glances to her right as he adjusts himself to her body.

She bites her lower lip and fights back the tears that threaten to fall. Zuko doesn't notice as he places lazy kisses along her shoulder and neck, hands tracing the contours of her body as if he's trying to remember each and every part of her. Katara closes her eyes and swallows the realities she did not want to acknowledge.

Falling in love with the enemy.

Sleeping with the enemy.

This is wrong.

She felt worthless.

**ooo**

Everyday it's white rice and water. There's no vinegar and salt, so the rice is bland and the water is warm and tastes like rusted metal. It's disgusting and a far cry from the _tenpura_, _katsudon_, and _takoyaki_ downed with a nice, cool, glass of pop or sake. Katara had once indulged with them when she had first arrived to Japan, now she can barely remembered what it tasted like. But, she's used to it now (it's bearable) and it's the only thing _to_ eat. Sometimes she wonders the day when the rice will run out; perhaps after the Allies have completely blown Japan off the face of the planet.

" When the war is over, I'm going to have myself the _biggest_ hamburger _ever_. With lettuce and tomatoes, no mayonnaise because that's disgusting, and drenched with ketchup and mustard." Katara licks her lips and closes her eyes, dreaming of a day that will probably never come. She can feel Zuko stirring next to her, pulling her closer to his warm body, and feels the lazy kiss placed on her shoulder.

Every night it was in his (their?) room. There's no rush or animalistic need; just a want to be close to each other, to feel skin upon skin, to hear the soft murmurs of nothing as they discover each other's body. Each moment is one that they take slowly, falling into their own world outside of the chaos. An escape.

" Hamburgers and hot dogs," Zuko murmurs against her skin. " So American."

" So delicious." She sighs.

They settle into a silence that consumes the room. The only thing that could be heard was the crickets of the night bugs and the slow, but steady breathing of lost individuals. Katara stares across the empty room, lying on her side, spooned against Zuko, with her arm outstretched under her, and thinks of her unknown future. She's been here so long that she doesn't even take notice of the time; it's summer, she knows this (the heat is unbearable), but it's like she's been living the last seven months in a daze. What month is it? What day? Is it Tuesday? Friday? How long since the last telegram? Two weeks? A month?

" I'm never going home…"

Her whisper is like a strangled breath, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation she was in. Katara was someone who was always aware of her surroundings and now she's someone who has lost touch with reality. She exists but she isn't _living_. She's in a room, locked away from the world, and she's too afraid to leave it. What if she left? What if she tried to see what lied beyond the garden, the gravel entrance, and concrete wall? Would there be anything left? Would there be American soldiers walking down the streets or would it be Japanese?

Would it be like Urashima Taro? The poor Japanese fisherman that lived in paradise for a few years but returned to realize hundreds of years had passed in his world? Her 'paradise', her escape, where she drinks age old tea in the morning, spends her day being comforted by Zuko, eats rice and drinks unfiltered water for dinner, and sleeps with a man who, years earlier, she hated with all of her being.

" Maybe you are home…" Zuko whispers.

This is not home, Katara thought grimly as she closed her eyes, this is purgatory.

The next day, a _kenpentai_ officer arrives at Zuko's home. He's not the same officer, not the one she knew all of these years; he had died during a bombing raid, from what this one had told her. The secret policeman eyes her warily when she takes the message from him. He briefly asks her where Zuko was at and she kindly responds with him being preoccupied.

Katara glances at the old, yellow, sheet.

1945 July 15th.

The radio station is badly damaged. Tokyo is nearly destroyed. They were loosing the war.

Time had not fast forward. She's back in reality. Maybe she would be going home.

**ooo**

The next telegram that arrives is brief: _Captain Satou Yoshitarou has died honorably for the Emperor_.

Honorably had meant only one thing; he had stuck a knife in his stomach and committed suicide, _seppuku_, as the term was used. Katara never liked him; she couldn't _stand _him, but his death was a shock to her. Were things _that_ bad outside these walls that top officials were sacrificing their lives? And as she looked at the man across the table from her, she had hoped to find an answer. But he was emotionless and only folded the small sheet gently.

He was his commanding officer. Of course he was affected.

It was July 25th, 1945 and the war had finally consumed the country. No longer was the propaganda of newspapers comforting the people as it was hard to tell lies when the truth was right in front of their eyes.

" What are you going to do?" Katara asks. Zuko looked at her and placed the telegram on top of the table softly.

" We wait for orders."

He got up; brushing the wrinkles out of his tan slacks, and walks out of the family room without another word. Katara looks at the sheet and wonders if Zuko was going to be next. Would he take his life for this country? Was he that nationalistic? He was raised to be devoted, the son of an influential politician, a member of a family of military men. When the final hours began to creep upon them, would he selfishly take his life as Satou? She glanced down the hall he had disappeared into and bit her lower lip.

Grabbing the telegram, she stood up and crumpled it into her hands before throwing it in the trashcan in the kitchen.

**ooo**

The orders never came. The next time they receive a telegraph, it's the night of August 6th, 1945.

_Attacked. The city of Hiroshima has been destroyed. All life destroyed by the Americans. Standby for orders._

When the _Kenpentai_ officer delivers the telegram, he looks uncertain and fearful. The rumors were a bomb that exploded into the heavens with a bright light that blinded many for kilometers. Shadows left behind on streets and rubble, signs of where people had once stood at before disappearing with the light that engulfed an entire city. Rivers, red with blood, filled with the dying survivors.

Katara looks at Zuko, " What are you going to do?"

He's sitting, she's standing, and Zuko kneels up against her body, wrapping his arms around her waste and buries his face against her stomach. If he's crying, she cannot tell, and she runs a hand through his thick, sweat drenched, black hair and whispers sweet nothings to him. Zuko is losing his country with each growing day.

Katara feels ashamed as she tries to suppress the relief she felt at that moment. Thousands of people have died, a country is practically destroyed, and he was witnessing it all from the sidelines. But, America was winning the war and she could stop the fluttering of hope in her heart. She _will_ be going back home.

Three days later they get another telegram reporting that the city of Nagasaki received the same fate. Then, orders came in: _Report back to Tokyo._

When he puts on the uniform of his country's army, Katara feels the reality of their situation again. They're not _friends_ or _lovers_; they're enemies on two different sides of a war. They didn't spend seven months like an oblivious couple living in a fantasy world of peace and tranquility; they are a _prisoner_ and an _officer_.

Katara doesn't know how to approach him as he stands in front of her, _shin gunto_ in one hand and his hat in another, and simply looks down at a random spot on the tatami mat beneath her feet. Maybe if she stared at it long enough, the world would simply disappear and she'd be whisked away to some place far where she wasn't a shell of whom she once was.

Yet, warm hands against her cheek force her out of her mental escape and she looks up into gold eyes.

She doesn't love him.

" It'll be okay."

She doesn't want to love him.

" I know…"

She can't help but love him.

**ooo**

The Showa Emperor's voice is crackled and garbled against the damaged radio set, but the people still can hear his message loud and clear.

They surrender. The military will be disbanded. The Americans won.

The Americans won.

We _won_.

Katara realizes she's pregnant.

In any normal circumstance she would have been elated. She would have been happily married, at her home with her doting husband, parents calling every other hour to check on her health, and an annoying brother coming by every day to remind her husband that he'd 'kill him' if anything happened to her or the baby.

They would be decorating the spare room, turning it into a nursery. They would spend nights cuddled beside each other picking out baby names from a book. They would try to guess if it was a boy or a girl and what future their child would have in the future. A doctor? A lawyer? An athlete? Scientists? Maybe future president?

But this wasn't a normal circumstance. She was not happy, she was scared. She was not married; she was having an illicit affair with the enemy. She was thousands of miles separated from her family and there was no nursery to decorate. No home, just a damaged apartment, _his_ apartment, and the smell of a once burning city permeating through the paper-thin walls of a once upper class complex.

Katara doesn't know if she should tell him, she's afraid of what he might do, what she might be forced to do; but she does know one thing – she _needs_ to get back home. When Zuko walks through the door of his (their?) apartment, he looks absolutely defeated. He takes her into his arms, buries his face into her hair, and breathes her in like she's the life support he needs to make it through to the next stage in his life.

" The Americans are coming to occupy," He whispers. " I've been discharged."

She licks her lips, closes her eyes, and nods, " What will you do?"

" Stay here," he kisses the top of her head. " With you."

Katara can't tell him. She won't.

If she did, she would never make it back home.

**ooo**

" Do you have any proof of citizenship?" The American soldier eyes Katara warily from his desk. He doesn't believe her. He's war torn, injured, and skeptical – now reduced to a clerk position for the growing occupation in Japan, issuing passports and permissions to leave the country to trapped ex-pats.

Katara reaches into her worn and old purse, the only thing she was able to salvage from the rubble of her once apartment, and pulls out her social security card and driver's license. The soldier takes the documents and inspects them, " Your driver's license is expired."

Katara wants to snap, but she contains herself, " I've been trapped in this country for five years." He looks at her from over her license. " I didn't have a passport, when I had applied, the results did not come in on time because America entered the war."

The soldier, Harrison according to his nametag, hands her back her identification and picks up an APPROVED stamp. He stamps her application and puts it in the outgoing pile, " You'll be notified of your results in four weeks."

Four weeks. One month. She was already, according to her self-assessment, at least three months along. By the fourth month she would start to show. Katara mentally laughed at her situation; it was foolish to believe that once the Americans came she would be on the first boat out of the country. Just as she had been stranded in the beginning, it would be foolish to believe that going back would be any easier – especially being a person without a country for five, going on six, years.

It's during dinner, over rationed rice and a side of vegetables grown in the neighborhood's makeshift garden that Katara decides to tell him about her situation. It's an otherwise quiet dinner, save for the loud sounds of machinery and military vehicles outside and the scraping of chopsticks against ceramic bowls.

" I'm pregnant."

She hears chopsticks fall on to the worn table, " What?"

" I'm pregnant."

" How long?"

" Three." She clears her throat, but she isn't looking at him, " Three months."

The loud machinery cuts off, probably for a break, the military vehicles have made it down the narrow street, and now the room is silent save for the tik-tok of an old grandfather's clock hanging on the far wall closet to Zuko.

" We'll have to get married then," he says, shakily, " The child has to be registered on the _koseki_. It'll be—"

" I'm going back home, to America." Katara cuts him off. " I want the child born in America." She places her hand on her stomach. " I want to go home…"

" So, you're going to deny its father?" Zuko's voice sounds strained, angrier, but she still doesn't look up to face him.

" I am," she pauses, " Going to do what's best for this baby. I am not Japanese, I do not belong here, and this child will be better off with me in America."

" What makes you think that?"

Katara looks at him this time, " You are the son to an affluent politician, a family of politicians. Do you think that this affair we've been having would be so easily accepted once the dust clears? The son of a great man having an affair with an American half-breed, producing an illegitimate child? Would that be fair to this baby? Did you honestly believe that our fantasy world was going to last forever?" Zuko doesn't say anything and Katara continues, " I don't want to be the whore on the side when your family sets you up for a new marriage, finding you a delicate pristine wife from a decent family. I do not want to spend my life here in Japan being nothing more than a bed warmer when, in America, I have done my dues and became a doctor to help those in need. I have a _future_ in my home and this child will too."

No one spoke for what seemed like hours in that small dinning room, even though it was a few minutes. Then Zuko sat up, " Do you love me?"

Katara, despite herself, " No." She was amazed at how easy it flowed from her lips, " I do not."

Without saying a word, Zuko got up from the table, grabbed his fedora from the dresser next to the door, and left. Much to Katara's surprise, she didn't feel anything. She simply sat there numb to the world and all of its problems.

Four weeks later, at the Vice Consulate's office, she receives her passport.

" The next ship to sail out is in another month," Harrison tells her, this time with a smile. " Welcome home."

**ooo**

Zuko hands Katara an envelope and she takes it, opening it up, and gasping at the contents inside, a one-way ticket back to America, departing from Tokyo Bay. She looks up at him and she can't read his emotions. Is he angry? Sad? Happy? She couldn't tell.

" Why?"

" Because I love you," He says, " It would be cruel of me to not give you the happiness you deserve."

When he leaves her alone in the apartment, to do his nightly bar hopping and wallowing self-misery over land, love, and life lost with every other male in the neighborhood, she finally cries.

It's October 25th, 1945 when she departs Japan with nothing more than a suitcase of clothes and a pregnant belly.

" This is where I'll be." She whispers against his ear, placing a small sheet of paper in the palm of his hand, as he embraces her. He lets her go, chastely kissing her lips and then kneeling down to place one on top of her small belly. She can't help but run her hand through his jet-black hair and imagine this scene in a positive light. Not them saying goodbyes but rather saying hello, a good morning, cheers to a new day.

She doesn't tell him she loves him. She boards the ship without ever saying goodbye.

It's December 30th when she arrives in San Francisco harbor. When she descends the plank onto the busy port of people walking in all sorts of directions, meeting with loved ones, taking cargo, or peddling for money to get on the next ship out, her eyes finally find her family. It's like no one exists in the world that moment, just herself and her family standing a few hundred feet away from the bustling crowd. She nearly runs to them, weaving herself through the crowd, and into the arms of her father. She's crying, shaking, and can barely stand but she's finally _home_.

" Welcome home, baby," Her father says, running a hand through her hair, soothing her. " Welcome home."

She feels her brother's hand on her shoulder and his wife's sweet voice welcoming her home. Katara finally feels the weight leave her shoulders.

_She's finally home_.

**ooo**

" Are the boxes finally loaded in the truck?"

" Almost! We just have a few things from dad's room."

" Well, good! Because we want to be on the road before sunset!"

" I know, sis! Sheesh!"

Katara laughs at her brother, watching him walk out of the house they had once called home for so many years holding two boxes. They were finally moving out of the neighborhood. After the war, it was difficult trying to restore life that had been lost for so many years. Even if their father wasn't taken; his business was tarnished, his family ripped apart, and life completely destroyed. His wife's untimely death at the interment camp was enough for him to send him into madness.

And while they tried to make up for the horrors of the war, no matter how hard they tried, it was impossible to resume life as normal with each element in their surroundings a constant reminder of what they had lost.

Katara had realized that her life, regardless on what side of the fence she was on, would have been upside down and in some cynical sense, her situation in Japan was probably a lot better than it would have been in America. While she was a prisoner on both ends, the fantasy she had lived in for almost a year gave her enough stability that kept her alive at a time she could have died.

" Kayo! Don't play in the dirt like that!"

And her son, her three-year-old son, the blessing from that fantasy she had lived in.

" Excuse me, but does a Katara Snow live here?" A man asks.

" Yes," She turns around and comes face to face with the man, " I am… her." She gasps in shock. It couldn't be…

" Ah, well then, I'm Zuko Kaneshiro. I'm not sure if you remembered me but we had met back in Japan a few years ago. You gave me this sheet with an address on it and told me to visit you."

Tears are flowing down her cheeks, " Yes… I did." She covers her mouth. Slowly, Kayo approaches the two adults; his hands dirty from playing in the dirt and his blue summer outfit covered in grass stains. He looks up at Zuko, golden eyes with curiosity.

" Who are you?"

Katara kneels down and embraces her son, light mocha skin against mocha, " This is your daddy." Blue eyes look up to aged golden ones, a smile gracing her features, " Your mommy's husband."

Zuko kneels down, " And what's your name?"

" Kayo Kaneshiro." He grins. " I'm named after my grandma!"

Zuko extends his hand to Katara and she places her hand into his. Such a simple gesture but held so much emotion. Nothing needed to be said. Everything from that moment on was going to be all right. They were finally a family.

* * *

><p>AN: AAAAAAAAAAAA<p>

FINALLY DONE. This story took me an entire year to write. It first started off as an excuse to throw Zuko in a WWII uniform and snowballed into an angsty filled lahv fest. Katara's story is based upon the real life events of Tokyo Rose, aka Iva Toguri D'Aquino, an American citizen trapped in Japan and forced to work for the military because she was considered an enemy alien. She never had an affair with a Japanese soldier and she did not spend nearly an entire year in the country side away from the war, she actually married a Filipino and lived through the heat of the Tokyo raids. She was pregnant but also lost the baby. She also didn't get to return to America and live happily ever after, she actually spent almost a decade in prison for being found guilty of treason, a verdict that eventually was overturned by President Ford on the last day of his presidency.

If you have the time, definitely take some time out to read up on her. If you go to the Biography channel website they have her Bio episode up for free stream.

As for Zuko and Katara, I wanted to really play with the dynamic that makes Zutara amazing to work with - They're alike in so many ways but they're different. Katara's a strong woman but she's also stubborn, same with Zuko. So while Katara had fallen for him she didn't want to loose sight of her own goal: Get back home to America. Whereas, Zuko was getting complacent... but he didn't have much to loose either. He was thinking about himself rather than about her so when he gets her the ticket he finally got the hint. He realized that her happiness wasn't in Japan but at home.

Much like in The Color Purple where Celie's husband gets the money to sponsor her children. He finally made the sacrifice to make her happy.

The scene where Katara finally sees her family I totally stole from the Joy Luck Club's final scene.

Anyway, thanks for reading. :)

EDIT: Upgraded the rating and changed the last name.

Some Definitions

**Kenpeitai - **Special police in the Japanese military during WWII. They rooted out enemy spies within the country and dealt with other problems that proved to be a potential threat to Japan.

**Shin gunto - **Standard issue sword that was given to all Japanese soldiers during WWII.

**kotatsu/horigotatsu - **Basically a hole in the ground where it would be lit up to warm the members at the room. It would be covered by a table if its a kotatsu (today it's electric and attached to a table) or simply a hole in the ground like a horigotatsu.

**Yukie (**雪絵**) - **A name, female. Characters stand for " Snow Painting ".

**Solace Wife **- Comfort women to the Japanese army in the South Pacific, and eventually for the American occupation to "reduce" rapes in the country

**Koseki** - In Japan, the koseki is the family registry. It is very important that a child is registered on the father's koseki or the child will be considered a bastard. The father is not responsible for the child if the child is not registered on his koseki. This is why Zuko pushed for marriage.


End file.
